The One With The Chicken Suit and The Heels
by Ceillean
Summary: Kyp Durron and Jagged Fel on a mission. Humor!


_Agamar, Calna Muun_

The view from the office balcony was spectacular. Contrary to prejudiced opinions across the galaxy, the Agamarians had turned out to be a very hospitable and friendly people, welcoming their Jedi friends warmly.

Jedi Master Kyp Durron leaned against the balustrade with his arms folded in front of his chest. The warm sea wind tickled his skin and he breathed in deeply, reminded of his own home Deyer. Calna Muun, the capitol of Agamar, was located on the coast and from where Kyp stood, he could watch tourists as well as locals gather around the harbor to catch one of the submersibles that would take them to the floor of the Bil Da'Gari Ocean.

One of the Senators had suggested they do this as well and no doubt, it would have been an interesting venture, but Kyp was glad the mission was over and he was more than ready to head back home.

"Ready to go?"

He turned around halfway and nodded towards Jag Fel. The younger man stood with a straight back, his military training evident in his stance. He wore a simple flight suit without insignia, much like Kyp. The only thing differing was the fact that Kyp's lightsaber dangled from his hip.

"Yeah."

"We might have a little problem though."

Kyp heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He tried remembering the last time a simple mission ended as easy as it had begun. Had there even ever been one?

"Please define a little problem."

Jag shrugged. "The way to the space port is blocked. The main street is crowded with a mob of people. Carnival festivities."

"That's no good."

"No."

"When do the celebrations end?"

"Four days."

"Damn."

The mission had been a secret one. Settling a simple dispute with a noble man and two Senators from neighboring worlds, the Agamarian Council had asked the Jedi for assistance. No one was to know of the Jedi's involvement, so walking about the crowd dressed as they were, was not an option.

"I mean, we _could_ blend in." Jag offered with the slightest lift of his lips, a roguish grin that made females gasp and swoon all over the galaxy. "All of them are wearing costumes. We dress up and head to the spaceport as one of them. Simple."

Kyp chuckled. "I've learned that _simple_ does not exist."

"What's not simple about this? There's a shop in the market quarter. We go there, borrow costumes, send them back once we get home and no one will be the wiser that we were here."

"Besides the shop owner?"

Jag scratched at his head, giving Kyp a sheepish look. "I suppose you should take care of that then."

"Aw, great. I've been degraded to erasing people's memories."

"Well, according to Jaina, it's what you do best." Jag's voice was laced with amusement.

Kyp pursed his lips but held back a retort. He was tired and moody as it was and he wanted to go home. Jaina had a big mouth, he already knew this, so he'd have a talk with her once he felt up to it.

"Don't listen to everything she says."

"Sir, yes Sir!" Jag clicked his heels together and gave Kyp a mock salute.

"Stop that, you dope." He sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Let's go find that shop."

"Will she be alright?" Jag asked, while waving his hand in front of the shop owner's face. Her eyes seemed completely empty, her face blank as she stared into nothingness.

"She'll be fine. I'll release her once we leave."

"What about surveillance cameras?"

"Already taken care of."

Jag wrinkled his nose as he stepped away from the front counter and followed Kyp into the back where a dozen or more empty racks stood filed in even rows. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Kyp gave him a droll stare. "_Of course_ I know what I'm doing. I _am_ the Jedi Master here, after all."

Jag snorted and shook his head at the other man's arrogant tone of voice. "And I will shoot this Jedi Master someday, you just wait and see."

"I dare you to do so. You'd never catch me."

"You are very sure of yourself, aren't you?" Jag scanned the chamber with his eyes, only now noticing the emptiness. He supposed the racks would have usually been hanging full with clothes and accessories but due to the festivities going on outside, the store was literally empty.

"Now what?" He mumbled under his breath, walking down a short flight of stairs into yet another empty chamber.

"Now we have to improvise." He heard Kyp's voice from the left. Jag turned around just in time to catch a large bag of… fluff?

"What's this?"

"The last of the costumes left. Here, hold this." Kyp thrust another zipped up garment bag into his arms.

Annoyed with the older man, Jag opened his arms and let everything fall to the floor. "I'm not your servant, Durron."

Kyp laughed. "Could have fooled me."

Jag cleared his throat. "Yes. I _will_ shoot you. When you _least_ expect it."

They crouched down beside the bags and zipped them open. Jag wrinkled his nose while Kyp scratched at his chin.

"I'm not wearing this." They said in unison, shaking their heads.

Kyp was the first to laugh.

"Can't you just hide us in the Force?" Jag asked, poking the strange orange furry thing in the bag with his finger.

"It would take too long to get to the space port. Hiding _me_ is exerting enough."

"And you call yourself a great Jedi Master?" Jag raised his brows, smirking.

"Shut up and put this on." He shoved the furry thing towards Jag while he dug through the other garment bag and grimaced as if he'd hurt himself. When he pulled out a long, white cloak with a matching gown, Jag couldn't help himself. His laughter bubbled out and he found himself sitting on the cold floor, holding his stomach.

"I swear to the Force, if you ever breathe a word of this, you're a dead man." Kyp said in a dangerously low tone. Jag wasn't listening – he was too busy laughing.

When Kyp pulled out a pair of matching white heels, Jag peeled over with a red face. Several minutes passed by while Jag's stomach convulsed from laughing too hard and Kyp glowered at him. "I can kick your ass in heels, Jag. Don't think that I won't."

"You could style your hair to match the outfit. It's definitely long enough." Jag said in between gasps and threw his hands over his head as Kyp tossed one of the shoes in his direction.

"Put this on and let's get going." Kyp pushed the fluffy-whatever-it was towards Jag, while getting to his feet and slipping out of his robes. Jag sat up, ogling the orange fluff in front of him. He grabbed it out of the bag and frowned. The middle piece was round and soft, whereas the legs attached to it were rather skinny – hardly enough space to fit inside. When he grabbed the second part of the costume, he started to laugh again.

"So you have to dress up like a woman and I'll be walking around in a Chicken suit?"

"Seems so." Kyp finished up with his rather petite gown and slung the matching cloak around his shoulders. A thin white shall completed the outfit. He let his hair down and took a deep breath – and another one, and another one – before he slipped his feet into the heels. And they actually fit.

Jag whistled. "Master Durron. You look positively sexy."

Jag ducked as Kyp flung one of his boots towards him by using the Force. "Get dressed so we can leave."

They eventually made it to the ship and even in one piece. Both had had laughing fits while mingling in with the crowd. Kyp had lost count how often Jag had tripped over his huge, flattened chicken feet. And every time Jag looked at Kyp in his pretty white gown, he couldn't help but giggle like a little girl.

They definitely made an interesting pair.

"And I was serious. You breathe a word to anyone about this and I will skin you alive." Kyp said as he kicked off the heels and began to slip out of the costume. Jag twisted off the head of the Chicken suit and grinned. "My lips are sealed."

Kyp narrowed his eyes. "I'm not kidding."

"I won't tell!"

"Fel…I swear, if I hear a word of this from Jaina…"

Jag fell back against the wall and laughed with all he was worth, holding his stomach. "I hadn't even thought about that!" He grinned. "I have something to blackmail you with!"

Kyp groaned and rubbed at his forehead. He grabbed his own clothes and headed to the back of the ship to get dressed.

None of them said a single word about their costumes on their way home.


End file.
